


The New Champion

by hooey



Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: F/M, adoring fan - Freeform, hero of kvatch - Freeform, oblivion, tes oblivion, the adoring fan - Freeform, the elder scrolls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:07:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21655000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hooey/pseuds/hooey
Summary: adoring fan smut aha ha 🤪
Relationships: Adoring Fan/Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil
Comments: 9
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hooey in the buildin wyd wya knowmsayin eughhhhh

It was an undeniably dirty win. A victory most fraudulent, but fortunately for her, not in vain. 

An uproar from the crowd echoed throughout the stadium as she took a heavy swing at the Orsimer towering above her, slicing him across his plated chest and tearing at the flesh of his collar.

"Strike me again!", he cried out.

He wasn't fighting back at all, his mind lost in the truth about his heritage. He had lost whatever remaining fight he had left within him. The spirit that kept him going all these years had died long before he did, leaving him to be only the reigning grand champion, waiting for someone to come along and end his suffering once and for all in this fruitless career.

"Please!", he cried again, "Just kill me already! Can't you see it's what I want?"

Another layer of sweat coated her leaden-blue skin, the sun's rays blanketing over the entire arena. Everyone was watching her, anticipating her next move. This was the grand finale, the ultimate battle that would decide everything, and she had already won long before she had even stepped through the gates. 

Still, this was _her_ moment, and she was damned if she was going to let it be this dull.

"Give it up, _Gray Prince!"_ , she rallied in an attempt to spice up the tension between her and her opponent, _"...You're making me look like a fool!"_ , she hissed as Agronak ceased to fight back.

Did she pity him? Of course she did, but it was he who brought this upon himself when he sent her sticking her nose where it didn't belong. He wanted answers, and answers he got.

"The very blood that runs through my veins is that of a blood-sucking monster! I'm no 'Gray Prince', I'm the spawn of evil! Kill me and get this over with!"

"Fine!", she grunted in frustration as she took a swing at his neck. 

Screams filled the stadium, but not the kind of screams she's used to hearing above her. The crowd cheers differently when you kill the Grand Champion. Aside from the usual cheers of winning bets, there were shrieks of anger. Of money lost and faith shaken. She'd never felt so hated and loved at the same time. They would remember the name Dragonheart.

The Orc's towering body gave way, falling onto the grated arena grounds and leaking out into the Arena Bloodworks, his brutish head rolling around like an empty vase. Having made it this far, she was grateful that it hadn't all gone to her head. Not yet, at least. 

She removed her helmet, letting it fall to the ground as she looked around at the clamoring pews above, her crimson eyes widening with ecstasy. 

She never wanted to kill Agronak. Technically, she never did. She had convinced herself that his death was an assisted suicide at best, and that over the brief span of their time training together, they had become good friends. Sure it was undeniably awkward for both of them as she climbed the ranks, but they both understood what was to come, and that neither of them made the rules. They both knew that the day would come when they'd both walk into the arena, and only one of them would walk out. 

Still, they never let it come between them. Not as friends, and not as training partners. They'd acknowledge the inevitable, and that was it.

Life was simple. Life was good. And with her new title, life was about to get a lot more complicated. 

She triumphantly lifted the decapitated head in victory, and the crowd went berserk. She planted her foot atop the collapsed body, gorging herself on the glory. The belting of the audience had always been music to her ears, so when her stomach began to stir, she reeled. She diverted her eyes, trying not to stare at the bleeding head next to her, but that didn't stop the lurking feeling that _it_ was staring at _her_. The noise deafened her thoughts as she tried not to let the weight of her situation set in. 

She staggered all the way down the spiraling corridor that led to the Bloodworks. The sharp pounding of guilt along with the crowd's cheers throbbing within her head was unbearable, and her otherwise strong legs gave into the downhill strain as she slammed a bloody hand flat against the wooden door which had already been coated with the dried blood of the combatants that came before her. It swung open, and she fell right through.

She stumbled into the training area as Owyn and Ysabel arose to congratulate her.

"By the love of Shinji, you did it! You beat the Gray Prince! This... This is unbelievable! That makes you the best fighter the Arena has ever seen! You actually did it!"

The voices faded along with her vision, and Dragonheart was out.

Upon waking up, she was met with a grace period of a few seconds where she had forgotten where she was, as well as the events of the hours before. It took her a while to realize that she was laying on a bedroll, and assumed either of the two haughty affiliates must have dragged her back here after she'd checked out onto the floor. She'd make sure the version of the story that would get passed around would be the one where she'd passed out after a long afternoon of celebration, rather than the fault of the gut wrenching guilt that had been pestering her since she had defiled her own integrity. Then the soreness trickled in, and the faster she came back, the faster everything caught up to her. She was the Grand Champion, and Agronak was dead, that poor, poor fool.

Rubbing her eyes awake, she slowly got to her feet, becoming more and more aware of the stirring feeling in her gut. Soon enough, she found herself rushing for the Bloodworks exit.

She emerged from the door, and quickly purged into the first bush she saw just outside the entrance. The coldness of the night accompanied by the quietness of the streets let her know that it was well after hours. She sighed in relief.

Her heart jumped as a voice rang abruptly from behind her.

"Wow! Y-...You're the Grand Champion!"

She remained hunched over the shrubbery for about a minute longer. Once she gave herself a chance to regain her composure, she turned around, and there _he_ stood. 

The same little bastard wood elf that had been pestering her on a weekly basis, sending her letters upon letters of his boundless adoration scribbled in _grave_ detail. None of which she would actually read, of course, but Owyn sure seemed to get a good laugh out of them. 

"Do you remember me? From your last fight? I was there, in... in the crowd!"

She never did think he'd have the gall as to approach her outright like this, but he had clearly proven her wrong as he stood there, his unsettling smile ever so illuminated by the flames of his torch.

He was quite... shorter than she'd imagined. She hadn't ever seen him before, but something about his words and the way he carried himself instantly let her know he was _definitely_ who she thought he was. To her, there couldn't be anyone else who would wait outside the arena HOURS after closing in hopes that she might come out.

"I just saw your fight against the Gray Prince! Y-You're the _best!_ CanI... Can I follow you around? I won't get in the way!", he fumbled over his words.

Dragonheart bent down to his level, playfully mocking him with her cynical tone.

"And what makes you think you are worthy enough to accompany me?"

"Well, for starters, I have never missed a single one of your battles, I've been supporting you since the very beginning of your arena career, I am absolutely entranced by your fighting, I could list nearly all the techniques you use-"

"Okay! Okay, I believe you...", Dragonheart dismissed, "How about I buy you a drink? Would you like to talk?"

She was already heading to the tavern, anyway. Why not make this loser's week while she was at it?

"Really?", his eyes lit up with excitement, the same star-stuck expression on his sweaty face at the sight of the disheveled 'Champion'.

"...But get in the way, and become the dirt I walk on!", she said tongue-in-cheek, keeping up this faux gladiatrix persona in which he percieved her to be.

"Wow, you're really the best! I'm going to follow you, and watch you, and...and... worship the ground you walk on!"

The Bosmer stared almost pervertedly as the new champion turned to walk, and he followed in suit. She could feel his eyes on her every step of the way, and something about it just felt...odd. But having a fan _this_ devoted? She'd surely have her fun with that.


	2. Chapter 2

"I feel like there's so much more to know about you, more than one can learn by just watching you alone. What made you want to join the arena?"

Dragonheart didn't know where to start. The truth is, she never did see herself winding up where she did. After Kvatch, she needed a quick and easy way to get back on her feet. She'd heard about Arena fighting, and it seemed like the quickest (and only) option, as not many other occupations took interest in hiring her considering her criminal record. Still, telling his hopeful little face it was because she was flat fucking broke sounded too disappointing, even for her. So she kept it brief. The details would have to remain up to his imagination.

"Fighting wasn't anything new to me, so I thought, why not make some money off of -"

The fan interrupted her with his own flood of information.

"The Gray prince is really quite the gladiator. _Oh, he's the best!_...", the way he moaned, Dragonheart thought he was on the cusp of ruining his pants.

"He was actually forced into the arena at a young age as a means of escape from life in his miserable orphanage. How impressive is that? That someone born into _that_ poor of a life could become this successful."

" _Was_."

"Huh?"

"The Gray Prince _was_ quite the gladiator. You said _is_."

The fan looked puzzled for a moment, before dismissively shaking his head.

"Right...sorry."

Dragonheart fought off the intrusive thoughts about her interference, and they walked in a sustained silence until the young bosmer continued.

"Well, anyway, sometimes he'd even let me carry his warhammer!... Well, at least _try_ to. The thing was too bloody heavy for me to actually _lift_ it off the ground, but still, It was so big!"

Dragonheart chuckled, "I'm _sure_ it was..."

The bosmer paused for a bit, "What's so funny?"

Dragonheart cracked a smile. The confused look upon his face made it all the more funnier for her.

"I...don't get it."

"Ah, forget it... I'm just teasing", she smiled as she shook her head, regaining her composure. Perhaps he was too stupid with lust to pick up on her implications.

Throughout the duration of their walk, Dragonheart had noticed that when he wasn't running his mouth, this fan was constantly looking around. At every turn, at every guard under every glowing fire.

"Which tavern did you say we were headed to?", he piped up.

"It's the one next to the sewer. And I didn't.", Dragonheart replied.

He briefly stopped walking.

"I know of a shortcut! I think it's this way..."

He motioned towards a dark street, parked in between two rows of empty residences, no guard in sight. 

It puzzled Dragonheart, "I think I know my way around the city. That path leads to a dead end."

The fan blinked for a second before laughing it off.

"Oh, of course you do! My apologies, Grand Champion! It must really be that time of night!"

One block away, they arrived at the seedy tavern, and Dragonheart along with her adoring fan stepped inside.

"By Azura! What a.... _place_ ", the fan said, taken aback by the musty odor combined with the decrepit interior.

"Fancy enough?", she stated proudly, above the noise of its drunk and disorderly patrons.

They both took a seat at the bar, and the fan glanced around the large foyer.

Dragonheart ordered a tankard of mead for her and the wood elf, as she sat on a bar stool, exhausted. The fan regained his previous demeanor, bombarding her with questions and useless arena lore.

Before Dragonheart could gouge her eyes out in boredom at the virgin's rambling, a stocky Argonian man appeared, two Khajiit escorts at his side. 

The fan rolled his eyes as the patrons approached them.

"Dragonheart, is it?", the Argonian chortled, shaking her hand fervently as he grinned, "We saw you send that green fucker to oblivion! You just payed my rent for the year!"

He left without another word, and Dragonheart took a sip from her tankard.

The hauntingly serious fan followed the Argonian with his eyes until he was completely out of the picture, before putting his face back on.

"Haha! Quite the fans you have!"

Dragonheart brought her brow together, "So, I take it you were a fan of the Grey Prince before you were of me? Such a shame what little faith his own fans had in him"

"Although his legacy will remain", he said strenuously, "He himself is a thing of the past! Haha!"

He quickly corrected himself, and beamed with enthusiasm

"Now, _you're_ the Grand Champion! And a woman, at that! I didn't know women could even participate in the arena. The ones that did never got very far, anyway... Did you know that I would go there every chance I had just to see YOU fight?! Even when the Grey Prince was still the Grand Champion, I'd come to those pathetic pit-dog fights to watch you dominate the competition. Ever since I saw you advance those first 3 ranks in the same day, I knew you were different. The Grey Prince... _never_ stood a chance. I must admit, I had my doubts, since he had absolutely every single opportunity to completely OBLITERATE YOU-"

Dragonheart cut him off, waving her hand dismissively at the lingering thoughts of her dirty victory, "Enough about this... Tell me about _your_ life. Have you any family?"

The fan scoffed at her question.

"Orphaned."

As Dragonheart finished off her 8th drink, the fan watched her, blinking. He was still on his first one, and hadn't even touched tankard.

 _"You_ surehandle _your_ alcohol pretty well. Which shouldn't be too surprising, considering your, well, your heritage", he snickered.

She raised an eyebrow, "My... _heritage_?"

The fan started, "Well, see-"

"So you can take one look at me and decide I come from a long, fruitful line of alcoholics?"

The fan quickly tried to correct himself again.

"AND fighters AND sailors, as Dunmer usually are, who obviously must have been good at surviving or you wouldn't even _be_ here. Taking into account the race and lineage of competing gladiators can really help your chances of placing a winning bet, just saying."

"...Aaand this is why I'm on the _competing_ side of the arena. All that strategizing just to be racist"

"I'm not a racist! I bet on _you,_ didn't I?"

Dragonheart broke into laughter.

" _Heritage_...At least I'm not kin to any _blood-sucking monsters_ , like our dearly deceased friend."

The fan was quiet for a moment, but his smile remained. He looked as if he wanted to speak, but everything in the world was telling him not to. Eventually, he blurted.

"Room!"

Dragonheart tilted her head, "Room?"

"I would like to, uh, get a room with you, for us, so that we, me and you, can both be, um, some place alone... _together?_ ", he grimaced as he forced out the sentence.

Dragonheart blinked. That happened sooner than she had expected. I mean, deep down she kind of _knew_ it would happen at some point or another, but not quite as fast as this! So much for subtlety. She glanced him up and down, he seemed old enough.

"Well alright, then", Dragonheart slapped a couple septims upon the counter and accepted the key from the barmaid.

The room was quite luxurious for a decrepit tavern. The bed seemed almost completely free of spiders.

The fan wasted no time holding the door open for Dragonheart and locking it behind them.

Dragonheart removed her armor, sporting only the garments she had below.

The fan sat on the edge of the bed, reflecting. His gazed fixated on the ground.

His eyes remained so as she approached, unnoticed.

She lifted his chin.

Dragonheart considered many things in that moment, given the swiftness of this whole situation. She admitted there was something odd about this young man. He was annoying as all hell, sure, but if she played her cards right, she could be in the midst of a possible... _habit_. She wasn't indifferent to the idea.

His eyes were piercing, staring up at her.

"Well? I take it you had a reason for bringing me up here so early?", Dragonheart smirked.

The fan nodded and stood from the bed.

"Could you...turn around, please?"

"I like where this is going...", she obliged him.

Dragonheart stepped away from the bed and stood with her back facing it, wondering what her little fan had in store for her. Her mind wandered as she heard the ambient sound of his belt. 

"Getting a little busy there, I see", she smiled, eyes closed.

She heard his footsteps approaching her from behind. 

Her breath hitched as she felt him behind her, placing one of his hands on her hip. He moved it up her shirt, folding back the hem of her pants with his thumb. She sighed, letting him lift her top and pull it back tightly against her skin. Her now exposed midsection felt the cool draft of the substandard building. He pushed up against her, and Dragonheart anticipated the other hand. 

Her eyelids fluttered in a bliss-state until she felt the quick cold slicing feeling across her abdomen.

It took a while for the realization to set in once she looked down at the velvet pool forming at her feet. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. She clutched the wound, spinning around to face the bastard. He had retreated onto the bed, but upon her turning he charged at her once again.

He missed her chest and barely scraped her cheek, catching her off guard as she brought her hand up to briefly check the damage, buying him just enough time to unlock the door and escape into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

Dragonheart was much too exhausted, and inebriated, to even attempt a chase with that murderous imp.

She tore a strip of her shirt off and tied it around her abdominal wound. She believed it would suffice, as she wouldn't dare attempt a healing spell as the last time she tried, she somehow managed to deal _more_ damage to herself.

There she sat. On the edge of her bed, trying to process what in oblivion had just happened. What could she have possibly done to incite such a spontaneous act of violence in what she thought was a fan? Had his intentions been set the whole time?

That couldn't possibly be it, could it? Regardless, it had been a long fucking day, and she had places to be tomorrow. Might as well try to move past this bizarre encounter, and at least attempt to get some sleep, if she could.

She reclined onto her back, careful not to upset the wound. She found the thought of a woman of her standing getting stabbed at such a cheap shot of a dagger ironic. Turns out she wasn't as invincible as she thought she was. Her previous opponents rarely had the upper hand on her, and when they did, the impact was never this lethal. She'd suffered blows to the arms, to the legs, and a profound sunken scar ran down the back of her calve, but never did she let them come this close to piercing an organ. This time, however, it was different. She had allowed herself to be stupidly vulnerable in underestimating this stranger and what he was capable of. Her flesh was exposed, as he had gotten her in a liable position. And that little fucker cut _deep_. 

Dragonheart headed through the rain to the arena first-thing the next morning. She was sure Ysabel had some _words_ for her. At least now they wouldn't be her usual passive-aggressive threats.

"And our marvelous Grand Champion has returned!", Ysabel said with joy as a soaking Dragonheart entered the barracks.

Dragonheart walked past her to the rickety dresser where she kept her clothes and other items. Ysabel went on as Dragonheart removed her armor and replaced her bloody shirt.

"You've come to discuss your future, I presume? What's next? Well, I'll _tell_ you what's next...I've been thinking... Why not spice things up a bit, give the people of Cyrodiil what they _really_ want? We revise the rules of competition, offer a _new_ kind of match... I'm talking weekly shows, fights pitting you against... are you ready for this?", Ysabel paused for dramatic effect, "MONSTERS!"

Dragonheart tilted her head and laughed, puzzled.

"Minotaurs, trolls, wolves! Hell, maybe even some wild animals! Sounds great, doesn't it? I've had some people out collecting your _'new combatants'_. The wilderness is full of 'em! Let me know when you're ready for a match, and it's showtime!", Ysabel sat, eagerly awaiting her answer.

"I wouldn't hold my breath", Dragonheart packed a satchel, "I think I'm going to take a break from the arena. Just for a short while, I believe. I need some time to think over some things."

"Oh, well, okay. I don't blame you. I understand fame can't be easy."

Dragonheart suited up in her light traveling armor, when another question arose.

"I almost forgot to ask- Your Raiment of Valor! Would you prefer a heavy raiment or light raiment?"

"I'm going to be fighting minotaurs. What do _you_ think?"

"Ah! Of course, a heavy raiment, haha. It will be here waiting for you when you get back. Where are you headed, if you don't mind me asking?", Ysabel followed Dragonheart all the way to the door, receiving no answer, "Well, wherever you're going, remember not to get into too much trouble! Fighters like you aren't easy to come by, you know!"

Ysabel laughed nervously as Dragonheart exited.

She traveled down the stone path to the Copious Coinpurse, grateful that there were hardly any people out in this weather.

"Well, if it isn't the Imperial City Arena's newly anointed Grand Champion! In _my_ store!", Thoronir chuckled as she entered.

Dragonheart groaned playfully as she approached his desk, picking items off the shelves along the way.

"Ugh. Tell me why I believed you to be the exception to that bosmer-arena stereotype."

"Bah! You don't have to be a lowlife gambler to know who's who. In fact, I'd say you've grown quite popular. People came here from way out of town just to see you fight!... And to gamble, but I'm sure you play a very important role in that."

"Really? How would you know that?", Dragonheart scoffed in disbelief as he tallied up the prices.

"My dear, I've got the best prices in town. People coming way over from Leyawiin are going to need some supplies for their trip back."

"There's people coming in from _Leyawiin?"_ , Dragonheart gasped in disbelief.

"You'd be surprised,", Thoronir winked, "Your total is 300 septims, _Grand Champion_ "

"Oh stop, you're making me blush", Dragonheart said sarcastically, her voice deadpan as she dug through her the satchel for the money.

As she reached for the last few, one of Thoronir's helpers entered through the backdoor, letting it swing behind her. Dragonheart looked up from her satchel and froze.

In between swings, she caught a glimpse of an unforgettable acquaintance.

There he stood below a parapet. Calmly waiting for the storm to pass, as if he hadn't attempted murder the night before.

Dragonheart threw the rest of the septims at the shopkeeper and stuffed the items in her bag as she darted for the backdoor.

Like a premonition from the gods, he saw her coming.

She caught up to him before he could even run, and they both stood close in the street, facing each other.

Dragonheart's chest rose and fell as the Bosmer looked up at her, utter resentment in his eyes. They stay like this for almost a minute, up close and glaring at each other in silence, neither of them making a move.

Dragonheart almost acted until the Bosmer motioned his eyes to the left, and she followed with hers. There were two guards positioned down the block, and people walking about under the canopies. He smirked.

"The balls on you. I'd have half a mind to skin you alive right here in front of everyone," Dragonheart said calmly.

The Bosmer batted his jeering eyes.

"Half a mind is right."

Dragonheart's nostrils flared with rage as she tried to compose herself, not wanting to catch the attention of any onlookers.

Then, she noticed where they were standing. Right behind him stood the same dark alleyway from the night before. She tried to be slick, but he knew exactly what she was doing when she stepped forward, repelling him back.

He took it a step further and slowly backed himself into the alley, letting the rain drench him and challenging her with a glint of malice in his eyes.

She pressed after him until they were at the very end of the trail.

They both faced each other once again, only this time there was no one else in sight.

The Bosmer stood with his back facing the ledge that divided the sidewalk they stood on from the sewage drop-off. 

The sound of rushing water along with the booming sky stalled the silence between them.

Dragonheart looked at him, then at the drop-off.

"I hope you can swim", she smiled.

"You wouldn't dare", the Bosmer growled.

"No one would notice or care. The guards don't even make rounds back here. Tell me why I shouldn't"

The Bosmer noticed her large satchel and light traveling armor.

"I...I wonder what people would think, the Grand Champion's biggest fan dying under mysterious circumstances the _same day_ that she decides to take off"

Dragonheart rolled her eyes and scoffed. She could still very well push him to his death, but as much as she hated to admit it, she wanted _answers_ more than she wanted him dead.

"All it takes is one rumor...", he sighed.

"You're _pathetic_ "

" _I'm_ pathetic? I wasn't the one who went digging into someone's past just so that they could have an advantage on them"

Dragonheart's face fell, realizing what he was alluding to.

The Bosmer went on.

"Be honest, you did it because you knew you could _never_ hold a flame to the kind of Gladiator he was."

"How...How do you know about it?"

"You come to learn a lot about a person once you obsess over them long enough. Who they talk to, places they've been, _favors_ they've granted...Agronak was _so_ eager for you to come back. _So_ eager to learn about his true origins. Your answer broke him. Had you kept it to yourself, he would have _gutted_ you out there-"

"He asked me, and I delivered", Dragonheart said coldly.

"Right before the championship battle, at that! How convenient that he would be as good as useless after finding out who he really was."

"I... I didn't know he was going to react that way."

"Bull-shit! You knew exactly what you were doing! You're no champion...you're a murderer! Just wait until everyone finds out-"

"That's funny! Last time I checked, you would have been one too if I had let you get another slice in!"

The elf stepped down from the ledge and stormed up to her.

"Do you know how much I lost because of that bet? Do you have any idea what you took from me?"

His voice was shaky, but filled with hatred.

Dragonheart reciprocated the same energy as she clenched her fists.

"I didn't make you place those bets," she shoved him, "All I do is go out there and kill, day after _fucking_ day! _You_ people _chose_ to put money on the table. You brought this on your own damn self! Just as Agronak _chose_ not to fight!"

The Bosmer shook his head.

"I have nothing left...absolutely nothing. My life is...ruined... And now....", he looked back up at her, "I'm going to ruin yours"

Before he could take off, Dragonheart lunged at the elf, pinning him down upon the cobblestone. They fought like stray dogs, rolling around behind the shady alley, ripping and tearing at each other's soggy clothes.

In the midst of the struggle, Dragonheart sunk her teeth into the Bosmer's neck, giving rise to a moan squealing out of the little elf.

She gave no thought to her subconscious cravings displaying themselves in this manner, acting solely upon her own impulses.

He dug his fingers into her back in retaliation, fidgeting underneath her as he breathed heavily. The heat of the moment and her desire to tear him apart urged her to suck on the imprinted skin, and she soon found herself leaving wet, bruising marks along his neck. He was still struggling, but no longer fighting against her as the knee she had planted right between his thighs became a post for him to caress himself against, rallying a further erection as he was overcome with a thirst greater than his thirst for her blood, all the while Dragonheart fought a losing battle against her sentience.

The fan let a wandering hand slip underneath the lining of his pants, pulling it back and liberating himself, allowing for his staff to spring up underneath the domineering Dunmer. She felt its presence beneath her as the elf massaged himself with his nimble fingers between gasps and moans. He kicked off the remainder of his bottoms while clawing at the garments protecting her loins. She smacked away his useless hand, undoing them herself before tossing them each aside. She stooped herself down to his groin, but was taken by surprise when the fan eagerly asserted himself before she could completely lower her cavity, gripping onto her hips like reigns. 

Dragonheart jumped at his entrance, whimpering and curling her toes as he rolled his hips into hers. She hadn't felt this in so long. His abrupt plunging woke up those sleeping nerve endings within her.

"Agh! Fuck!"

She cried as he ringed her core with each thrust. Her natural lubricant allowed for him to pick up speed as her feet grew numb.

Dragonheart with what little strength she could muster relieved them from the rest their clothing until there was not a single piece of fabric between them and the beautiful, muddy Nirn they wrestled on.

He caught the Dark Elf off guard when he pounced, stunning her onto her back before hurling himself back into her. Dragonheart felt hot blood rushing to her cheeks as he had his way with her in this compromising position, trying and failing to hold back her small cries of pleasure as he hurt her pride.

 _"If only they could see their beloved champion now...",_ the fan sneered at the mess Dragonheart had made of herself.

She slapped him, and he lunged forward in an attack, furious. They both rolled around on the wet ground, fucking and tearing each other apart and leaving deep bites and claw marks in their wake as the storm raged on around them.

" _Haggard bitch!"_

" _You're nothing!"_

Their words cut each other as Dragonheart kicked him off. He crawled towards her animalistically, his muddy, wet locks dangling in front of his face, and a hungry look in his eyes as Dragonheart backed herself into the wall.

She shoved him back quite hard, but he came right back even harder. His eyes now leveled with hers. He parted her knees, wasting no time enveloping himself within her blue sea of shame once more as he tunneled into her curled angle. She was marvelously tighter, hindering him from pulling himself out completely. She threw her arms over his shoulders and brought him closer, his sweaty forehead pressing up against hers with intense loathing and arousal.

"I hate you!", he was seething, "I _hate_ you!"

He filled every thrust with his pent up rage as he insulted her.

 _"Yeah?"_ , she exasperated in response, " _You do?"_

_"You f-fucking...coward!- Ah!"_

She tightened her walls around him as his stiff, trembling member marked her between her thighs. One would think he was being eaten alive at the gasps and wails he delivered.

 _"Ngh-...I hate you...so...much...!"_ , he barely got out.

She felt him pick up strength, using up the very last of his energy to finish. He couldn't help but stifle a scream, holding on tightly as he felt his load being flooded out back onto him by her overpowering climax.

Their heads rested together, as they glared into each other's eyes with pure vitriol on their way down from the high. The Bosmer sighed and carefully slid out.

He collapsed right next to her as they both sat leaning up against the wall, avoiding eye contact and any form of addressment of what had just happened.

The pellets of water rinsed the mud and stickiness off of their bodies and hair as they both sat limp, letting the rain wash over them.

"Dragonheart...", the Bosmer began, out of breath.

Dragonheart looked over at him, acknowledging what he had to say.

"...Such a stupid name...So uninspired..."


	4. Chapter 4

Dragonheart hung her head between her knees as she sat. Distraught at what she'd done, but even more so enchanted by the thrill of it all. Their hatred-charged frolic in the mud left her seeing stars.

For a relatively smaller person, he sure knew how to carry himself. Never having felt so matched in her previous endeavors, she didn't know if she should be more ashamed in the fact that she'd done this at all, or that he nearly stalemated her dominance. Never again, she thought. Never again would she allow someone to conquer her like that. Especially someone of such lesser age and standing. Just the thought of her on her back as she had been, allowing herself to be ferociously bridled by the lowlife Bosmer was enough to make her sick with embarrassment. How dare he assume such a position. How dare she let him.

But this didn't parry her conflicted feelings. Contrary to his disposition, he was as unstable as they come, and would likely make another attempt on her life given the chance. She was playing a dangerous game, having him like this, and she knew it. She had already been halfway disconnected from her own morality, and the dwindling remains of her emotional intelligence could only be of so much help.

And to imagine how he felt. How disgusted he must be with himself that he so easily gave into his whims. If he really hated her as much as he let on, then this encounter must have absolutely ruined his state of mind. More than it already was, if even possible. She had figured the best option was to move on, leaving this unenviable experience as far behind her as she did with all of her past disturbing events.

She hesitantly looked up, and sure enough, he had long since left. It seemed as if running was the only thing the Bosmer knew, as he vanished, leaving her with only the lingering memory of him in her carnal muscles. But not without a souvenir. The elf had disappeared along with the satchel that had accompanied Dragonheart on her walk this morning.

At first, she was struck with anger. Anger towards the fact that he was stupid enough to dare meddle with her a second time, and she'd have no other choice now than to tear the flesh off his frail little bones. But then she really thought about it.

Losing the satchel itself, full of its provisions and supplies, wasn't vital enough to send her into a blood frenzy, but significant enough that she couldn't quite leave town without it.

He wasn't stupid. She understood he knew very well that she'd eventually track him down for revenge.

He wanted her to find him.

And find him she would. Dragonheart had already suited up and was ready to pursue the petty thief, but she stopped herself.

Wherever he was, he must be expecting her. Just hanging on the edge of his seat waiting for her to appear, and that _really_ got her going. He'd have to suffer with himself until Dragonheart would rule that he'd had enough. She already had an idea of where he might be, so she decided that she'd let him wait. She wasn't in an immediate rush to get out of the city. After all, she couldn't. Not with this unfinished business that would certainly serve no purpose but to drive her mad, and haunt her throughout her expedition. But for all he knew, she could have very well skipped town already, having purchased a new satchel, along with everything inside of it. Why not drag out his misery?

But as confident as she was in believing that she had the upper hand, Dragonheart wasn't spared from this maddening uncertainty. He could very well be on his merry way to ruin her career. Who's to say he hasn't already? She knew that if she were in his place, she definitely would.

Led by her paranoia, she hurried her way down to the Arena. Her heart rested heavy in her chest. He couldn't possibly have already told the Battlematron or even the Blademaster about her foul play, right? It was foolish to consider such a probability... Right?

She didn't care if it was a stupid suspicion, or not. Her only priority was to get to those Bloodworks before he did... IF he was even going there, for that matter. Dragonheart found her mind running in circles as if she were some crazed conspirator. Everything inside of her was telling her that she needed to be in the company of her superiors until she was absolutely certain there would be no chance of them receiving word from any informant.

She pushed her way through the door and stopped, creating a sudden stand-still within the room as she huffed in exhaustion and scattered her gaze. Just as soon as they halted, they joined together in a unanimous rise of jubilation. Pretty soon Dragonheart had hands on her back and people in her face she's never met before, all congratulating her on her newly earned title, as well as bitter combatants still in mourning of the late Gray Prince.

"Dragonheart!"

"Grand Champion!"

"I hope you're happy..."

"You actually did it!"

Her heart pumped eagerly in her chest as she looked around for her whistleblower. Battlematron Ysabel approached her, cupping her face in her hands.

"Oh, how invigorating it is to see you again! Although I wasn't expecting you to be back so soon..."

Dragonheart shook her head.

"I only came to stop by. I've delayed my departure until tomorrow-"

"Then today we celebrate! You've come on a day of rest."

Ysabel grasped her hands and guided her down to where she kept the spirits. These louts jump at every opportunity to drink.

Dragonheart wanted to object, but she couldn't deny the advantage that being around the holders of her income gave her regarding her dilemma. That, and she never turned down a good party. Even if she _was_ plagued terribly by her guilt. Not guilt for what she'd done, per se, but guilt that she might be held responsible for it.

The hours flew by with each drink. People danced and revelled into the night, commemorating yet another day of their survival. The attention she received was almost orgasmic, and as people clung to her chest, Dragonheart began to forget more and more of what had worried her. She didn't think it to be true, but she indeed had gained inflated levels of self-importance throughout her success in the arena, and it especially didn't help that she was being fawned over when she already had a habit of being absorbed by her own ego. She found herself painfully trying to fight off the looming truth of her victory as it tormented her psyche. She played out scenarios in her head of what might occur if she were to come out with the truth, right then and there. These people had no idea, not an ounce of suspicion or any knowledge of what she had done, and the only person who does wants her _dead_ because of it.

Well-after the sun had set, in the middle of a mind-numbing conversation with some no-name aspiring gladiator, Dragonheart remembered the best-laid plans she made earlier that day and snapped out of her pampered stupor. She blew him off mid-sentence, rising to her feet as soon as the thought sparked back into her head.

"I... have to go!"

Leaving without another word, she pushed her way through the people, and eventually out the door. Her paced quickened with each racing thought as Dragonheart had well assumed she'd be getting her satchel back by the end of the night.

-

She pushed through the tottering door of the tavern she'd nearly lost an organ in the night before. It was lively as ever, most of its patrons too drunk to recognize a face. Through the crowd's bustle, it relieved her to see the golden-haired devil passed out on a barstool, face down at the end of the counter.

Dragonheart made her way through her second crowd that day, stopping once she was standing behind him. She brought both of her hands down upon the counter, planting them on either side of the elf. His head shot up, alert. The color of the hands that trapped him sent chills up his spine. He didn't dare try to escape.

"Run and I'll cry thief", her voice was low in his ear, and raspy as usual.

"I take it you're here for your...materials", his apathetic tone masked the quaver in his voice.

"And I take it you enjoy leaving a lady naked in the rain", she carried her offhand remark with her as she pulled up a stool next to him, "Where is it?"

"You're _hardly_ a lady. And...I sold it."

Dragonheart visibly stifled jumping back to her feet, as her heart dropped upon hearing that her items had been pawned off.

"That was a lie", he said as quickly as she had reacted.

Dragonheart struggled atop the stool, trying to form a comprehensible phrase out of all the various renditions of _"What the fuck?"_ floating around in her head.

The Bosmer watched her frustration, his fingers digging into his pant leg.

"Are you upset with me?"

Dragonheart shook her head, giving a half-amused scoff.

"What?"

"Do you wish to harm me? Kill me?... _Fight with me again?"_ , he leaned forward as he went on.

"Getting thrown back in prison for murder isn't exactly high on the list of things I'd like to happen tonight", Dragonheart sighed with fake sincerity, "And although you are the least deserving of my mercy, I feel that you need it the most."

He blinked considerably and turned back to face the bar.

"Inside the barrel behind the tavern. That's where I put it."

That was much faster than she had expected.

"Splendid. Have a horrid evening."

Dragonheart slapped the counter and got up to leave, before the Bosmer spoke up, swiveling to face her.

"Wait!,"

Dragonheart sighed and turned around as he continued.

"You _are_ planning on returning, yes?"

Dragonheart nearly laughed at the ridiculousness of his question

"Returning? What for, to battle with beasts? Please..."

"What do you mean? You must! You'rethe Grand Champion!"

"And as such, I can do whatever I so please. If I find myself short on a payment, perhaps I'll come back and knock a couple heads together."

His face distorted into a frown, "You really _are_ nothing but a fraud. A terrible champion with a terrible name and a terrible attitude. I hope you _die_ out there."

"Good day, my beloved fan", she turned to leave again, but he tested her once more. After mustering enough courage, he turned to a last resort and blurted out behind her.

"The least you could do is get me off!"

Dragonheart's head shot back to him, tilted at his rude proposition.

_"I'm sorry?"_

The fan was unsettled, but stayed true to the brashness of his words.

"In this tavern, in front of all these people... Just like Queen Barenziah did in that one tale, that Dunmer slut..."

This was getting ridiculous.

"I am _not_ Barenziah, and if you think I am going to do any of that with _you_ , you're stupider than you look."

"After what happened I think it's only fair that you _do_."

"And what exactly do you think happened?"

The fan checked her out, "You took advantage of my purity with what your... _tempting_ ways. It was _your_ fault. That makes you directly responsible for-"

"Purity?", Dragonheart chuckled, "By the looks of it, it seemed as though you knew good and well what you were doing. You're no purer than the next horny bastard in your scene."

"I've only had a long time to imagine what I wanted from you", his eyes lowered from hers down to the crest of her top, "And I want more-"

He reached for one of her breasts before she seized his arm, her grip digging into his soft flesh as his hand froze into a claw.

"You will _not_ touch me without my order", she snapped, "Gods, you're an animal..."

 _"Tame me"_ , the wood elf jerked forward as he growled the words.

Dragonheart shoved his hand into his chest and wrinkled her nose.

"As if!"

She was neither drunk nor desperate enough to go through with that again. Before he could get another word in, Dragonheart stormed off. Leaving him dumbfounded, and far behind.

She rummaged through the barrel behind the stupid tavern, retrieved her stupid elements, booked a stupid room in another stupid tavern across the stupid city, and went to bed quite angry... And a little aroused.  
  
  


-  
  
  


She woke up twisted in the sheets, sore all over and with a headache to top it all off. Soon she was wishing she'd taken advantage of the arena's off-day and used their basin of renewal to rid herself of the scratches and bruisings. Perhaps it wasn't too late.

Dragonheart casually stepped through the Bloodworks door, as people were scattered about inside, training. As she walked past the trash barrel beside her old bedroll, she couldn't help but give into the urge of digging up and rifling through the letters she once received from her so-called fan.

A lot of them were crumpled, or stained by Owyn's drink he'd spill with laughter. As she skimmed them, she couldn't help but laugh, too. Momentarily, at least.

Oh, how he declared his love and everlasting adoration for her. Paragraphs piled on one another, desperately imploring for his validation as her ultimate devotee.

She was disgusted, but impressed. The boy sure could fucking act.

Dragonheart tucked away the letters and turned around, not expecting to be met with such a troubled-looking Battlematron.

Dragonheart stood, waiting for Ysabel to speak rather than just make a face at her.

"I can't _believe_ you would do this!", Ysabel's exasperated voice rang.

Dragonheart froze dead in her tracks, her entire being slowly filling itself with the sinking feeling that her worst assumptions had come true. _It couldn't be!_ But it made all too much sense, especially after the night prior. For certain, that pestering arena rat had gone and squealed about her advantage to the higher-ups, she just knew it! What was she to do? Would her reputation be tarnished? Smeared? She couldn't care less about being barred from participating in the arena, but she _did_ care about how all of this would paint her to be. Stained as another lying, cheating, dark elf of ill repute. All of which she was, admittedly.

She'd have to run as far as she could, to Skyrim maybe, change her name, cut her hair...

 _Oh, he'd really done it this time_. She was a fool to let him live. Dragonheart would surely waste no time gutting the informant after the sure chastising she was about to receive.

"Please, Ysabel, allow me to explain-"

"I can't believe you'd tease us like this! Coming in and out, day after day like I'm not counting the seconds until you're next battle!", Ysabel laughed heartily.

_Fuck..._

Dragonheart sighed with great relief, leaning back against the wall as Ysabel went on.

"I want to see you back in that arena, really giving it to these horrifying beasts we've rallied up just for you! Please, _please_ don't be long!"

"The next fight hasn't begun yet, has it?", Dragonheart asked, overshadowing the older woman's desperation.

"No, no it hasn't", the Battlematron's eyes suddenly lit up, "Why? Would you perhaps like to fill in for-"

"I was hoping I could spend some time in the basin, if that wouldn't be of too much trouble"

Ysabel's face fell with disinterest, "Oh...Of course, go ahead...Next fight's not for a while..."

Dragonheart nodded politely, walking past the disappointed woman and into the adjoining room which held both the basin, and the door that lead up to the gates.

She took it all in, as she was almost certain she wouldn't likely ever see it again. Definitely not as often as she had before.

The satchel was the first to hit the floor, followed by the gentle clanging of whatever remaining armor she hadn't stored away in the Bloodworks. She was left in her tunic and cloths, which had also been taken off on her way to the stone tub.

Throwing one long leg over the edge, she lowered herself into the enchanted water. An instantaneous warmth consumed every inch of her, as she felt the scratches and bruises littering her body begin to slowly dissipate.

Just as she was reaching nirvana, Owyn emerged from the door she had come through. The brass in his voice snapped her out of her trance.

"Grand Champion? _Err_... Sorry to bother you. There's some creepy little guy at the door refusing to leave. Says he knows you. Should I... 'take care of it?'", Owyn gestured to his sheathed longsword.

 _"Ugh...",_ Dragonheart rolled her eyes, and laid her head back as she sighed. "Bring him in."

"You know I don't like tourists in my Bloodworks."

"Trust that it won't be long."

Owyn shook his head and turned to leave, but briefly turned back.

He gave an implicative grimace at the basin, and then at her.

"Please! What kind of woman do you take me for? I wouldn't defile the sanctity of this fountain with some _commonman_."

"Your business is _your_ business...", Owyn left, leaving Dragonheart to wonder what in oblivion the little fool could possibly want now.

She let her eyes rest as she awaited the inevitably mind-exhausting encounter. Above the regular noise of training, Owyn's stern voice could be heard through the walls.

_"Hurry it up, she hasn't got all day! You're lucky I don't hack off your head and display it on my mantle..."_

The Blademaster swung the door open as fast as he would shut it, after pushing the fan through the doorway and leaving Dragonheart with a simple, "He's all yours!"

Dragonheart sat up in the basin as the shaken up wood elf entered, her breasts rising just above the water level. He stood tensely, painfully averting his gaze from her hefty peaks.

"Why have you come to disturb me? I had gotten the notion that we had no more business between us."

"Well, you see-", the fan stepped forward, but was immediately interrupted.

"No, no, no," she said as she stuck out her palm at him, "You're in _my_ world, now. Don't you dare come any closer... _Unless you plan to get in"_


	5. Chapter 5

Whether it be her state of euphoric relaxation, or just her natural brazenness, Dragonheart didn't care for the appropriateness of the matter. Bespelled by the healing powers of the water, she seemed to nearly block out any growing resentment for the elf. At the heart of all of it, she just loved the attention.

The fan held back a protest, but still considered her offer.

"Are...Are you sure? This won't take long, and I'm not even allowed to be in here..."

"And yet you still came, for whatever reason you had. Unfortunately for you, I'm not willing to hear it unless you remove those ugly clothes and join me", she playfully nudged the water with her foot.

He still stood there, frigid as ever, going over his options in his head.

"Seems to me like you've only one choice", she teased him.

If she truly refused to hear him out while fully clothed, then it seemed she was damned right, and he knew it.

The fan took a deep breath, beginning the removal of his shirt. As he carefully exposed his chest, Dragonheart could see in full view the remaining bruises and abrasions she had left on him from before. Claw marks that tore the skin across his chest, bruises peppering his ribcage, and bites scattered about the rest of his upper half. She could tell he was still hurting, still recovering from them.

He removed his pants with precision as to hide himself until he was fully exposed, save for his unmoving hands which cupped his nethers. He slowly approached the tub, standing before the dark elf. Dragonheart smirked as he struggled climbing into the tall basin without the help of his hands. She'd made a couple offers to assist him, but still, he refused. Impatient, Dragonheart sat up and began trying to hoist him upwards. She outstretched her arms to him, and he finally let go of himself enough to throw his arms over her shoulders, ogling her body as she pulled him forth into the stone tub. She was very lean, and far more muscular than most Dunmer women. He felt so frail in her arms, like she could break him at any second. He understood that being in her gentle grasp like this was indeed a privilege. After a brief struggle, he had settled into the position they had created together. One of his arms slung over her shoulder, and the rest of him fell loosely on top of her body as they lay there in the water, sky-clad. The healing had begun to kick in, seeping throughout his body.

 _"By Azura...",_ he moaned as he grew limp in her arms, all the tension he carried melting away by the second.

 _"Lovely, isn't it?"_ , Dragonheart whispered.

He nodded weakly in return.

"How does it feel, being down here?"

"I can't believe it...", a smile creeped onto his face as his eyes fluttered shut, "The very Bloodworks where Shinji once trained, as well as..."

He trailed off, his smile slowly fading.

This moment of tranquility between them went on, as Dragonheart found herself lost in a deep thought of where she had been, and where she was headed. A question arose, and who better to ask about the arena than the person right up against her?

"How long had Agronak been the Grand Champion for, exactly?", she awaited his response, hoping the question wouldn't trigger his emotional instability.

The Bosmer's head was nestled in her neck as he answered.

"Nearly a decade", he sighed, "I had been watching him since I was a child"

Dragonheart gazed off into the ceiling.

"He was quite dear to you, wasn't he?"

The elf didn't respond, but he didn't need to. Dragonheart understood full and well why he was driven to end her life, no matter how stupid of a decision it was. She had thought about those ten long years of glory, and how they'd just might suit her. She could only hope no one would best her in the same dirty way she did The Gray Prince. While the thought lingered in her head, she took a well-deserved sigh of relief that her earlier suspicions hadn't been true.

"I believe I must thank you", Dragonheart began, "For not revealing the... You know... _"_

"Oh, but I did"

Dragonheart had to make sure that she had heard him correctly.

"I'm sorry, you what?"

"It doesn't matter. They didn't believe me anyways, so..."

She shook off the daydream, and focused back on the question at hand, and more importantly the animosity she felt towards the bastard on top of her.

"Why have you come here?", she said, her patience slowly beginning to run thin as everything came back to light.

After a momentary silence, he budged.

"Regarding the night before", the fan began, meekly, "I feel that we left off rather undesirably"

"Oh, I'm sorry, what would have been more desirable for you? Getting larked, and then sending me on my way?", she raised an eyebrow in annoyance, "Which is it, Bosmer? Do you wish to fuck me, or kill me?"

"Hey! I understand the advances I made were uncalled for, but I didn't anticipate they would offend you-"

"Not only are you not important enough to offend me, every second I spent standing around in that bar felt like another one closer to you stabbing me again", Dragonheart sat up in discomfort, "Anything else you'd like to say before I have the Blademaster throw you out of here?"

The fan's face distorted the more frustrated he grew.

"I thought about you again that night, and I came to realize... You haunt me deeply. You plague my mind and I can't stand it. I cant stand _you_. Not an hour goes by where I don't think about how much I despise you, and soon after,"

He sighed into her neck,

"How I despise you not being around."

Dragonheart bit her lip, the same urge as before befalling her. She lowered her eyes to the water, more specifically what lied underneath it. She felt she had spent too much time ignoring his nudity, and was surprised he had done so well looking past hers. Although he didn't dare act upon it, after this conversation she was sure the thought hadn't slipped his mind.

"...What do you do...when you think about me?"

Her eyes stayed fixated between his legs, trying to contemplate how he was able to bring her so much pleasure. Maybe it had just been a really, really long time since she had last gotten any. His size was modest, as was expected of Bosmer men, but ever so bold when actually put to work.

"Last night, I... _pleasured myself...",_ he said, his voice soft as he raised a hand to a bruised imprint on his neck, "While caressing your... bites"

The image of the elf beating off helplessly at the thought of the pain she'd inflicted upon him stirred her. Dragonheart felt herself getting hot below the water, until the yearning grew painful.

"Can I...be honest?", she began, "...I still hate you."

The fan quietly questioned in his snug position, "Then why have you invited me to be in such close quarters?"

Dragonheart lowered her lips to his ear and growled,

_"Because I wanted to make you cum one last time"_

The fan hitched his breathing as she ran her tongue along the side of his face, sucking on his ear.

She guided his hand to his groin.

_"Show me how you pleasure yourself, Bosmer"_

The elf took himself in his fingers, lightly pulling on his semi-hard shaft. Dragonheart aligned her teeth along the imprint, biting down hard on his neck as she watched his flushed tip slowly emerge from his sleeve with each stroke. The Bosmer let out a series of shameless moans, whimpering as Dragonheart gently squeezed the tight, hairless mounds below the base of his shaft.

_"Hnngh.... Please... Please..."_

She trailed the bites further down his collar as he pumped himself, his erection at full potential.

 _"Look at you, so desperate...",_ her voice low in his ear.

Her hand overpowered his as she nudged it off, taking its place around his cock. She tightened her grip, as he involuntarily bucked his hips through her enclosed palm. He used his free hand to entrap one of her breasts, grazing his thumb over her dark blue nipple, kneading as he humped.

"How do you fancy my cock, Grand Champion?"

Dragonheart felt his solid flesh rubbing through her palm again and again. Although she'd fancy it a lot better if it were inside of her, she would choose to remain in her position of power over the fan. As attractive as the thought of him ramming into her felt, she knew it would do no good to her ego afterward.

She could feel him getting closer to his climax by the way he pressed his face into her skin, whimpering with every breath as his thrusts grew sloppier.

"Aah... Aah... Aah... _AGHH!"_ , his wails crescendoed as he thrusted above the water line, spending all over his own chest. As the remains of his orgasm rocked throughout his body, he clung onto Dragonheart, _"Hnngh- Take me with you!"_

Confused, she backed away from him slightly.

"...What?"

He refused to let go, wrapping his arms around her body and entwining his legs with hers.

"Please... Don't go without me..."

"Ugh!", Dragonheart struggled to pry him off, just as the door swung open unannounced, yet again.

"Hey! This _isn't_ a bath house. Take your love nest somewhere else, we've got another fight in five!", Owyn barked, looking upon the two in disgust.

The door slammed shut, and Dragonheart pushed past the fan, stepping out of the basin.

"Hey! Wait!", the fan cried out from inside the basin as he nearly fell climbing off of it.

She quickly began dressing herself, one step ahead of the fan as she slung her satchel over her shoulder and headed for the door.

"Just- Hold on!"

The Bosmer begged, midway through pulling up his pants. He followed her out the door.

Owyn scoffed as Dragonheart passed him.

 _"Sanctity_ _my ass...",_ he mumbled as he watched them both exit.

Dragonheart ignored the fan as he followed closely behind her down the street, begging for her attention.

"Please let me go with you! I'll stay out of your way, I promise!"

"So you can kill me the first chance you get?", she turned around and grimly stated "No" before continuing to walk. 

"That's- I won't- Just _please_ don't leave me here!"

"There is no way in oblivion that I will let you accompany me"

He passed her up, stumbling backwards so he could face her as he pleaded.

"Well, why not?"

"Because I don't want you with me"

"Why?"

"Because you'll ruin everything"

"Why?"

"Have you forgotten that I will not be returning? That makes me stuck with you and I do _not_ want to be responsible for whether you live or die."

"I can take care of myself!"

"Look at you! You barely have a weapon, you have no armor, you can't fight to save your life..."

"Then I'll learn!"

"You'll get us both killed"

"At least hear me out"

"I believe I've heard enough-"

In a leap of faith, the fan stepped in front of her, stopping her and stalling her movement. Although she didn't say anything, he could tell her patience had been worn thin by his incessant badgering.

"Aren't you _persistent..."_ , she hissed as he tried to find the right words before she'd break his filibuster.

"Everyone here hates me!"

She tilted her head, "I wonder why"

"I don't want to be alone, anymore!", he grasped onto one of her hands, "And I know you don't, either. Everything I've ever known is within these city walls, and I want to change that but I can't without _you_."

 _Alone?_ Dragonheart thought, _What did he know about her?_ She wasn't alone. Not entirely. She wasn't the most socially apt person, sure. And she found little luck in pursuing relationships, what with her intimidating and more so unattractive presence. But alone? Please.

"Am I supposed to be moved by that?", she chided, slapping off his grip, "You're horny. You'll get over it in a few days. Now beat it, kid. I don't need a fan."

He stayed behind, as Dragonheart continued on her way past him. She didn't hear not a word behind her, and after a while, she assumed she'd finally shook him off. 

Past the Imperial City gates, Dragonheart strided, finally wealthy enough to be liberated from the clutches of the arena. Leaving this place was much needed, and she was now free to see what all of Cyrodiil had to offer before she'd receive summons from Baurus regarding the next move in search for the Mythic Dawn assassins. She wondered where she'd visit first as she viewed her map. Skingrad? No, _Chorrol!_ It was just up the road through the Great Forest, and if she quickened her pace, she could make it before nightfall... Oh but she had a weakness for beauty, no matter how she denied it, and did love taking in the scenery.

It wasn't until she had made quite the distance into the forest that she heard the sneeze from which came down the trail behind her. 

No way.

_No fucking way._

She looped around, and her startlement soon replaced with outrage as before her eyes stood none other than the ever so beleaguring wood elf, who had undoubtedly been following behind, entirely unbeknownst to her. 


End file.
